A Right To Swear

A Right To Swear by Lem Griffiths July, 2016. Young gulls - love., How that fickle wind blows, Soaring, dive bombing., As their fancy takes, not a 'blue sky' care - O'er the chaos below-screeching of laughter, They've earned the right to wail and cry and swear. I looked down from my window, In the nano second of a beat, Yes., he'd once soared higher.., higher- Or balanced above all the recklessness., Life's precarious bird on a wire. In the late Autumn's heat. Just yards, at a junction, prized from his weapon, 'Lamp post lynching seemed nigh, Til a uniform, roughly plucked him, To give account.., To the young school gang., crying ., 'Why?'. An interview, he can't be late - He never got the job, The 'mort'-gauge, a leaky roof, All meant nothing to the mob. Whilst back down my road, in solemn silence we stood, His wings broken asunder, Mrs lollipop closed his eyes, As a gust ruffled his hair., And in the distance - A deep rumble of thunder. So..., so long, young sea gull from number 28, The homework chasing - no more, The years and the town - all seem to stem from that day, There ought to be a law....., Damn it, Dad.., there ought to be a law.